Lonely
by TheMidnightLemon
Summary: Kirk, Spock, and Bones are simply too prideful to admit that they are lonely and long for a relationship none of them think could ever exist. Kirk/Spock/Bones
1. Prideful

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own Star Trek, it belongs to a lot of people that I'm too lazy to list off right now._

_Rated: T_

_A/N: So I wrote this while listening to "Lonely" by 2ne1. I was incredibly inspired by it. I think this is probably the saddest fic I've written._

_BUT! I need your help! Should I continue this story or leave it as is? I think it could go either way so I wouldn't mind some feedback. Please read and review and tell me what you think I should do! Enjoy!_

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><p>The process was slow. The realization even slower. The more they did, the more they explored, the less he saw of them, and the more it slowly ate away at him.<p>

James Kirk was lonely and he could only blame his pride for not doing anything about it.

It wasn't as if he never saw them, he did see them quite often actually, but it was never quality time, never time that he could let himself enjoy. And he was too prideful and stubborn to admit that he wanted more than just a few minutes of talking over reports here, a quick bite to eat together there. He was a captain, a man's man, you don't just go admitting that you feel like crying every night because all you want is to hear him laugh, see his sly smirk.

For months now he'd lie in bed, imagining them on either side of him, holding him close. Yes, it was starting to go beyond a desire for friendship, which was making his heart hurt even more. He knew it would be impossible to even have one, never mind both, and he knew it wouldn't be the same with only one. He needed both to complete him.

So there he was, yet again, lying in his bed, hands running through his hair and over his face as he tried desperately not to think about how truly lonely he was, how all he wanted to do was page to their rooms and ask them to come sleep with him and hold him close all night.

He knew he had to do something about it soon. He was becoming more and more exhausted. His sleep was fitful and rare and he was worried it would soon affect his performance. Though, if he was completely honest, he knew it already had. He was lethargic and apathetic and his smile was forced. He functioned. Barely.

His allotted eight hours to rest was slowly passing. Yet another night was wasted in wistful daydreaming and wallowing in his endless loneliness. This time though he didn't bother to try, he knew it was useless. With an hour left he got up and got himself ready for his shift. Better to make himself useful for an extra hour than lie in bed feeling like hell. He'd rather be productive while feeling like hell.

With a familiar swoosh of his doors he made his way out of his bedroom and to the bridge to go through yet another pointless cycle only to end it with the same feelings of desperate, consuming loneliness.

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><p>It was when he noticed that his outward emotionless appearance was no longer a facade that it dawned on him.<p>

Spock was lonely and he could only blame his pride for not doing anything about it.

He was ruled by structure and embraced the steady predictable presence of it. But what used to be a comfort was slowly turning into a painful, routinely reminder of how lonely he truly was. The brief morning meetings, the standard landing party protocol, the twice weekly shared meal times in the mess hall, they were not adequate anymore. Though, truly, they never had been, he had simply not realized this.

For months now he'd sit at his station on the bridge, his mind on autopilot, as he considered the simple joy of creating and sharing a private meal with them. On Vulcan, such an act would have been considered quite intimate, and he knew, in truth, that is what he wanted. He wanted to share a bond beyond their current friendships. Neither his Vulcan nor Human heritage easily accepted such a polyamorous union and his reasoning told him that his imaginings were a fruitless endeavour into the impossible. But his heart continued to remind him that he would never be truly satisfied with only half of his heart's desires.

So there he was, yet again, sitting at his station stoically, trying to force his mind to focus on mathematical equations to no avail. At one point his mind would have revelled in the complexities of creating a more efficient vessel but now all he could think about how none of it held any interest due to his constant state of loneliness.

He knew he had to do something about it soon. He was becoming increasingly emotionless to the point of not conversing unless absolutely necessary. Aside from the two meals a week he shared with them he spent all of his spare time alone in his room. He was becoming a hermit and while that would be acceptable for a full Vulcan he was only half and the human half of him was suffering. If he continued on the path he was on he would create a wall so impenetrable that no one's emotions would ever have an affect on him again.

His allotted eight hours of scheduled work time on the bridge was slowly passing. Yet another shift wasted considering his state of loneliness and all the things he could do to change his circumstances knowing he would never follow through on any of his well thought out plans. He suffered in his chair until precisely seventeen hundred standard Earth time and with a small nod to his Captain left the bridge and made his way to the science lab.

After the ten point seven minute walk he arrived at the empty lab to continue the same slow mental suicide he had started as soon as he had woken up that day.

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><p>Being the jaded man that he was he knew it was coming and being the stubborn, pessimistic man that he was he did nothing about it as he saw his happiness once again slip from his fingers.<p>

Dr. Leonard McCoy was lonely and he could only blame his pride for not doing anything about it.

His past relationships had left him a broken and confused man. He had no idea of what was healthy anymore. He had been told that he was needy and clingy so to avoid being called that ever again he pushed people away and promised himself that he'd never need anyone ever again. Problem was he only made himself more depressed by doing that. No amount of whiskey was ever going to erase his feelings of utter loneliness.

For months now he'd lock himself in his office, wishing at any moment they would come in and order him away from his desk to enjoy an evening drink with them and laugh and trade wits until they could no longer keep their eyes open. He knew it was a ridiculous wish made even more ridiculous knowing that he wanted them both there, not just one. There was a harmony there that could only be achieved with all three. But no matter how he tried to justify the feelings he knew he was more than likely just being needy once again.

So there he was, yet again, sitting in his office with a glass of whiskey making himself look busy when anybody came close to the window. But his usual scowl was getting harder to call up as the alcohol only amplified his feelings of loneliness.

He knew he had to do something about it soon. He was turning into an old, jaded, grump of man far too early. His attempts at keeping people at bay were becoming far too easy as people were not even bothering with him anymore. He was becoming a lost cause.

His allotted eight hours of spare time dragged on and on as he drank, moped, and pretended to be busy. Yet another evening wasted doing everything he could to pretend like he didn't care that he was drowning in alcohol and loneliness. Once he felt like he was ready to pass out or throw his glass in frustration he knew it was time to retire to his quarters.

He curtly nodded to the orderlies on duty and trudged back to his room to pass out. With any luck maybe he wouldn't dream yet again of the men he loved most and wake up alone and miserable.


	2. Selfish

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own Star Trek, it belongs to a lot of people that I'm too lazy to list off right now._

_Rated: T_

_A/N: Well after a number of wonderful reviews and not so subtle hints to continue, I've decided to write more to this story. I admit though, I'm totally winging it. It probably still won't be a super long story but I will make sure that it will be a true romance story - they will get together somehow. So yes, please read, review, and enjoy!_

_EDIT: Goddamnit. I forgot to add in the line breaks to separate the points of view. Sorry about that! It should make more sense now, sorry!  
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><p>The alarm went off and Kirk groaned. He immediately knew he was sick. His body was slick with sweat and when he turned to shut off the alarm his body ached all over.<p>

He sat up slowly. His head felt like it was filled with cotton balls. He thanked his lucky stars he wouldn't actually need to think today. All that was planned was travelling to their next destination.

Kirk stood and with an enormous effort went through his routine of getting ready for the day. He knew he should tell Bones immediately that he was feeling ill, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't bear the thought of being that close to him and just be treated like any other patient. He knew it was selfish, but to Bones, he wanted to be special. Even if he was just doing his job.

Once he was ready Kirk made his way to the bridge. Usually, he would have gone to the mess hall for breakfast but he doubted his stomach was interested in food right that moment. He would have given anything to have his men feed him a light breakfast in bed and stay with him in his quarters all morning and work so they wouldn't have to leave him. It was selfish, but he wanted it all the same.

He walked slowly, making it seem like he was just casually walking, though in truth he couldn't force himself to move any faster. His limbs felt like they were moving through molasses and every step took an embarrassing amount of energy.

The doors slid open and he nodded to his crew as he made his way to his captain's chair. He sat down and his limbs thanked him profusely. He made himself comfortable, knowing his people would come to him with reports, which he was thankful for.

The first hour on duty he survived but as the morning wore on he knew he was fading. He could barely keep his eyes open and he felt freezing though his body was sweating.

"Captain, I believe you may want to look at these readings we received from our previous mission," said Spock, turning in his chair to look at Kirk.

Kirk nodded and slowly stood, doing everything in his power to make it seem like he was only taking his sweet time and not that he could in fact barely stand.

He made it halfway to Spock's station when his body shut down. The room span before him and the last thing he saw was Spock sliding towards him. He only wished, selfishly, that he could have stayed conscious to feel Spock's arms hold him.

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><p>The captain swayed dangerously before his limbs went limp like a ragdoll's and began to fall to the ground.<p>

Spock dismissed all worries of proper decorum and dived out of his chair, sliding on his knees to Kirk and catching him in his arms.

For the briefest of moments, Spock satisfied his selfish desire to indulge in the feeling of Kirk in his arms, holding one of the men he loved close to him.

"Spock! What happened? Is he alright?" exclaimed Uhura, rushing over.

Spock stood, Kirk in his arms like a princess. "I will take him to sick bay. Please inform Dr. McCoy and have him be prepared for our arrival," Spock paused a moment, noticing how abnormally warm Kirk was in his arms. "Inform him that Captain Kirk is unconscious and has a high fever, I can not estimate temperature at this time."

Uhura nodded and quickly went back to her station to page McCoy.

Spock hurried off the bridge towards sickbay. He made a few select detours, avoiding the more congested corridors. He knew Kirk would want as few people as possible to see him so vulnerable.

He cradled Kirk closer and did his best to shield his face from onlookers, though gratefully, there were very few on the route he chose.

His heart was beating faster than usual and he knew it was due to worry. Kirk was very rarely ill and to pass out was alarming. He hoped it was due to Kirk's stubbornness to not admit he was ill earlier and what he was afflicted with was minor and just left unattended too long.

The only comfort Spock had was his faith in Dr. McCoy's impressive medical abilities. The man was unorthodox, but Spock could not ignore his success rate or the crew's unfailing support and trust towards him. Truth be told, Spock knew he would trust the rustic doctor with his life above all other doctors – even a Vulcan one.

Spock finally reached the sickbay doors and hurried in, anxious to hear Dr. McCoy's prognosis, and perhaps, selfishly, to simply be in the presence of both of them at the same time.

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><p>McCoy's eyes widened then turned darkly serious as Uhura relayed the message. He was in his zone like a switch had been turned on in his mind.<p>

He quickly readied a bed and drew the curtains, knowing Kirk's worries about being seen while ill or otherwise incapacitated. The man was vain, but McCoy understood. He was the captain and wanted his crew to always see him as invincible – it was part of the reason the crew hardly ever questioned his insane decisions.

He picked up his medical tricorder and set up the proper scans. He trusted Spock's diagnosis that his only noticeable symptoms were that he fainted and he had a fever. He knew Spock would have noticed anything else out of the ordinary, the man was sharp. While it was annoying to have every fact pointed out to him all the time, it was also extremely useful in cases like these.

McCoy paced nervously as he waited the arrival of the two men. It was selfish, but a part of him was excited knowing that at any moment he would be in the company of the men he loved most. It wasn't the best circumstances ever, but it was something, and he'd gladly take it.

The doors slid open and McCoy was greeted with the sight of Spock carrying Kirk as if he was a precious doll.

"Lie him over here Spock," McCoy ordered, gesturing to the curtained area.

Spock simply nodded and followed his directions without question, lying Kirk down on the bio-bed.

McCoy immediately went to work running his scans. He wasn't surprised by the findings, though he was still annoyed and upset by them.

He sighed heavily. "It's a damned flu. Nothing serious, but the problem is his immune system is pathetic. Which means he hasn't been eating properly, sleeping properly, or both. And knowing him, it's both."

"What is his expected recovery time?" Spock asked, clasping his hands behind his back.

McCoy shrugged. "It's hard to say. He's allergic to the medication I could give him so all I can really do is keep him hydrated and pump some vitamins and immune boosters into him. My guess is going to be around three days, but I'll probably keep him an extra day and give him a good old fashioned talking to about his diet and sleeping habits."

"I would like to be here when you "give him a good old fashioned talking to" so I may express my concerns as well."

McCoy turned to Spock and smirked. "Probably a good idea, he ain't gonna like it too much if even we agree on this."

"Indeed."

"Hey uh, Spock," McCoy started but paused, annoyed that his mouth decided to act before his brain could tell him not to do it.

"Yes?"

"He'll probably wake up around dinner, if you wanted to see him," McCoy offered. It was true, but he knew his intentions were selfish. He just wanted Spock there again so all three of them could be together.

Spock nodded slightly. "I will return at 1800 hours. If he should regain consciousness before that time I would like to request you inform me."

"Will do," McCoy replied watching Spock walk away, already anxious to have both of them in his company again.


	3. Regretful

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own Star Trek, it belongs to a lot of people that I'm too lazy to list off right now._

_Rated: T_

_A/N: Sorry about the slower update! I had some bad writer's block recently. I tried writing this chapter a few times and it kept going strange on me. I know this chapter turned out short, but I realized I needed this little interlude first, and I'm really happy with it now. Enjoy and I will update soon!  
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><p>Jim Kirk was a man of the present. He never looked back and hardly ever planned for the future. What mattered most to him was what was happening at that exact moment.<p>

So when Jim Kirk opened his eyes to find himself alone it was strange that his mind would be suddenly cast into the future.

The curtains were drawn around his biobed giving him total privacy. But privacy was what he wanted least at that moment.

He wanted to wake up and see their faces.

He wanted to wake up everyday and see their faces.

His heart seemed to suddenly weigh too much and sat heavily in his chest while the rest of his body felt hollow.

Was this how it was going to be the rest of his life? Was he going to wake up one day and realize that he was old and still miserable and lonely?

Was he going to be on his deathbed regretting never telling the ones he loved how he really felt?

But how could he tell them? How could he risk their friendship like that? It could ruin everything and they could leave him forever, leaving him with nothing, not even their friendship.

Kirk sighed heavily. And yet, staying only friends with them was killing him slowly. Perhaps it would be better to chance it all. If they left him at least then he could move on with his life. It was this limbo that was destroying him.

It all came down to a war of regrets. Either he would regret telling them how he felt or regret never telling them how he felt.

Kirk finally felt like he might not be able to win the no-win scenario.

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><p>Spock was a man of the future. He was always planning the next move, usually looking ten moves ahead of everyone else. He planned for every possible outcome and it was how he always seemed prepared for anything.<p>

So when Spock found himself sitting in the captain's chair staring off into the stars it was strange that his mind would suddenly be cast into the past.

He knew regrets were illogical. What was done was done and nothing would ever change his past. Timelines could be altered and shifted and the future was always changing, but his past, the one unique to this Spock in this universe, could never be altered.

He could never start his career at Starfleet earlier, he could never not start his relationship with Uhura, he could never get his mother back.

His heart seemed to suddenly weigh too much and sat heavily in his chest while the rest of his body felt hollow.

At this rate he knew he would be adding to that list.

He could never go back and be with the men he loved.

Yes, it was possible for him to change the future, but the chances of his desires becoming reality were near non-existent. The most logical course of action was to remain friends with the men he loved. The needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few, or in this case, the one.

Spock stared out into space and, for once, regretted ever having learned logic.

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><p>Bones was a man of the past. He treasured every happy memory like it was the most precious gem and destroyed himself by replaying every bad one over and over. Regret was no stranger to him.<p>

So when Bones found himself at his desk going over reports it was strange that his mind would suddenly be in the present moment.

Being a man of the past afforded him a lot of insight. He could see patterns of behaviour easier than others. It gave him a strange uncanny ability to sense things coming because he had seen it all before.

His heart seemed to suddenly weigh too much and sat heavily in his chest while the rest of his body felt hollow.

He could sense the window of opportunity was starting to close. If he wanted to do something about it, he needed to do it now. He knew how these things went. It was a like a speeding train. You only had so much time to switch tracks before it was impossible to stop the current direction.

Every moment turned present into past and the longer he waited the sooner he would be adding to his collection of regrets. Another bad memory to torture himself with at night.

He knew it was possible to change direction. He only wished the change of direction wouldn't send him crashing into a wall of impossibility.


	4. Nervous

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own Star Trek, it belongs to a lot of people that I'm too lazy to list off right now._

_Rated: T_

_A/N: I'm sorry yet again for the slow update! Unfortunately, we lost some people at work and I'm having to be there full time for a bit. It sucks, I tell you what. Anyways, here is the fourth chapter of Lonely! I quite liked writing this one, it was fun to write them rattled. Just as a fair warning, this story is not going to be long, I expect one or two more chapters after this. I never intended for it to be long, just long enough for a happy ending :). Anyways, enjoy and review!  
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><p>When James Kirk opened his eyes again he noticed something odd - he wasn't quite entirely alone. A steaming cup of tea and a small glass of brandy were on the small table beside his biobed.<p>

His breath hitched in his throat and he was almost too nervous to follow the logical train of thought. What if his fever addled mind was playing cruel tricks on him? He was scared to look anywhere but at the two drinks in case it was just a dream. In case the owners of those drinks weren't really sitting there beside him.

"Well good evening sunshine, 'bout time you woke up!"

Kirk shivered as his favourite sound in the world, the comforting southern drawl of Leonard McCoy, caressed his ears.

He took a deep breath before daring to look over to his right where the voice came from.

His eyes drank in the sight of the loves of his life sitting beside his bed, PADD's in their laps, looking at him.

He couldn't help but smile slightly. It was like a beautiful dream, waking up to their faces.

"You could've woke me up earlier," he replied, his voice hoarse from the illness plaguing him.

"I could've, yeah, but I doubt you've slept that much in months. I-" he paused for a moment. "Well I couldn't bring myself to wake ya."

Kirk glanced to Spock. "You neither?"

Spock tilted his head slightly. "I saw no reason why I should wake you unnecessarily. I agreed with Dr. McCoy that it was better we let you rest so your body could use its energy to fight off the infection."

Kirk looked between the two.

Then just as quickly looked away.

His chest felt on fire and he couldn't take a deep enough breath as nervous energy wracked through him. His body knew far too well what his mind wanted to say to them, to confess to them right here and now, but now was not the time. He knew he couldn't let himself stay in limbo much longer, but he wanted to be a bit more prepared for when he gambled with his happiness.

"Jim, I'm sure you already know what I'm gonna say but I'm gonna say it anyways. What have you been thinking? Your immune system is shot! This infection should take a day to fight, not three or more. You obviously haven't been eating or sleeping right. Why didn't you come talk to me or Spock? You're the captain of this ship and a lot of people rely on you, you can't be doing this."

Kirk knew it was coming, but it hurt all the more to hear it. On top of everything else he was being selfish, putting his crew at risk because of his constant moping and pining. It had to stop and soon.

"I know Bones, I'm sorry," he replied softly.

"Well are you gonna tell us what's been eating at you?"

Kirk looked between the men.

Then the fire erupted in his chest again so forcefully he was almost shaking and he was sure he was sweating. He couldn't do it yet. Not while he was ill and certainly not lying in a biobed. He needed time to get his thoughts and obviously his nerves together before he said anything.

He swallowed before replying. "I'm not ready to talk about it yet. I promise I'll eat properly and do my best to get enough sleep for now."

"You'd better Jim. If this happens again I am going to monitor you like I'm your damned mother and I'm definitely not above using pointy ears here as my spy," he threatened, pointing his thumb at the Vulcan beside him.

Spock cocked an eyebrow at McCoy but still nodded in agreement. "If Dr. McCoy asked me to spy on you I would, for the safety of this ship and your well being."

Kirk smirked fondly at the two men. "I get it, get my shit together. I promise I will, this scare was enough."

"Good," said Bones. He stood and looked down at Kirk. "I'll be right back with some soup and bread. Spock here can start updating you on the going-ons of the ship while I'm getting it."

"Thanks Bones."

"Yeah yeah, now get nattering," Bones grumbled playfully before heading out of sick bay.

Kirk smirked. He had no idea how he was going to manage to eat anything when his entire body was a tangled mess of nerves just being in their presence.

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><p>Spock never fidgeted when he was nervous, but that was mainly because he put so much energy into not fidgeting that his stoic stillness was in fact his nervous tick.<p>

If his dead still posture in the captain's chair was anything to go by, he was a nervous wreck.

It had become extremely obvious after his captain's health scare that Spock could no longer let the situation continue as is. If he ever lost Jim or Leonard without ever telling them how he felt he would never recover.

The only problem was Spock was not at all accustomed to expressing emotions. To be faced with the prospect of expressing his deepest, most intimate of desires knowing that there was a very low probability of them being returned was without a doubt one of the most terrifying situations he had ever come across.

He had decided that morning, the day after Jim collapsed, that he would give himself until Jim had recovered to plan out how to confront the objects of his affections. As soon as his captain was well enough to take back control of the ship he would tell him and Leonard his feelings.

His muscles tensed dangerously and he made sure not to grip the chair's arm rests too tightly. He didn't want to have to explain why he destroyed the captain's chair's console to Mr. Scott or anyone else for that matter.

Every time he considered what he would have to do in approximately three days time his body felt like it might have a nervous breakdown. It was alarming and a bit embarrassing that even with his Vulcan training he was having difficulty keeping himself focused and composed. He was even starting to consider the possibility that Earth's poets, writers, and singers may have been correct about romantic attachment. It made you a little crazy.

He stared off into the endless expanse of space in front of him. He thought back to when he was in his alternate universe's vessel, heading straight for Nero's ship, ready to die.

He wished that the prospect of telling Jim and Leonard his true feelings made him feel less nervous than flying on a collision course to almost certain death.

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><p>Leonard McCoy was extremely good at selectively ignoring things. It's part of what made him an amazing doctor. The ship could be blowing up all around him and it would never affect his performance.<p>

He used that skill to ignore every feeling that bubbled up inside of him for the past three days. What mattered was getting Jim healthy. He focused on that instead.

But as he watched Jim walk out of sickbay and the doors closed behind him all the feelings he was ignoring came back in a rage to make something very clear - if he didn't act now he was going to lose everything that really mattered to him.

He rushed to his office and collapsed into his chair, his hands shaking as they ran through his hair.

McCoy was not a man of action. He was a man of reaction. Things happened around him and he responded to them and that's how he liked it. The idea that this time there was nobody but himself to start this whole fiasco into motion was nerve wracking.

He pulled out his communicator and dropped it on his desk. All it would take was for him to say that they needed to talk in private and everything would snowball from there. Once that commitment was made there was no turning back.

He reached for the communicator and his hand only made it halfway before his lungs seized up and he began to sweat profusely. It could all go to hell. Everything. He could lose their friendships and be forced to transfer off the ship when things finally got too awkward to stand.

He swore under his breath. It was true, everything could go to hell, but at least, for once, he could sleep at night knowing that he did something to try to make himself happy. It was a gamble but if there was any chance he might not end up a grumpy, jaded bachelor his entire life he had to do it.

He grit his teeth together and forced his trembling hand forward. He picked up the communicator and his breath started to come in such short, shallow gasps he thought he might faint. He touched the screen and prepared to call Spock and Kirk.

The room began to spin and he closed his eyes. He was going to do this. He had to do this.

He took a deep breath and opened them again. Without another moment's hesitation he pressed call.

"Kirk here."

"This is Spock."

"Kirk. Spock. We need to talk."


	5. Hopeful

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own Star Trek, it belongs to a lot of people that I'm too lazy to list off right now._

_Rated: T_

_A/N: I'm sorry again for the slow update! This chapter nearly killed me. I rewrote it like three times. I hope you guys like it, it was very difficult to do as I didn't want to make it too cute or cheesy. This is basically it though! I may do one small last chapter like an epilogue. So yeah! Read, enjoy, and review!  
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><p>James Kirk would be a liar if he said last night's odd and short conversation hadn't left him with a small glimmer of hope. He kept thinking about how it was odd for Bones' voice to quiver when he said he needed to talk to them, for Spock to suggest that they meet in his quarters for dinner the next evening, and for Kirk not to question any of it. He couldn't shake the feeling that it would be odd if all that oddness meant nothing.<p>

He didn't want to get his hopes up. He knew it could easily be a set up for disappointment. But he couldn't stop himself and he knew, deep down, he didn't really want to try to stop himself either.

It was that nagging glimmer of hope that left him standing in his mirror making sure he looked perfect as if he was getting ready for their first date as a triad and not the last evening of their friendship.

He took one last look at himself in his mirror and nodded. It was time.

He exited his quarters and started the short trek to Spock's. He took his time though, savouring his last few nerve free moments before he gambled his heart and life away and left them in the mysterious hands of fate.

As he approached Spock's door he watched, as if in slow motion, Bones walk around the corner at the other end of the corridor, dressed up in a vest and tie.

A shiver crawled up his spine followed by a fluttering of hope in his stomach. Kirk knew that Bones only dressed up for two reasons. Because he was forced to impress or wanted to impress.

He smiled and nodded at his long time friend. "Nice vest."

A faint flush crossed Bones' cheeks followed by a slight upturn of his lips. "Nice shirt."

"Glad you approve," Kirk replied with a playful wink and pressed the buzzer to Spock's quarters.

After a few moments the door slid open revealing the other love of his life wearing a traditional black Vulcan tunic embroidered in silver.

Spock nodded to both of them. "Good evening. Please, enter," Spock invited, moving to the side to let the two men into his quarters.

Kirk smiled softly as Bones moved aside for him to enter first. It was a gentlemanly gesture that Bones usually did by habit but this time Kirk couldn't help but hope it wasn't just habit.

He entered the warm living space and he mentally begged himself not to hope that this was exactly what it looked like. For if it were any other time, with any other people, he would have had easily described Spock's quarters as romantic.

The room was filled with candles and smelled slightly of something fresh that reminded Kirk of a warm spring day. Spock's triangular table was already adorned with food and water and his best tablecloth. Around it were his best pillows. Kirk had only seen that table cloth and those pillows when Spock was entertaining important guests.

Spock gestured towards the table. "Please, sit down. I prepared us one of my preferred traditional Vulcan meals. I," he paused momentarily. "Hope you enjoy it," he finished softly.

Bones smiled at Spock. "It looks delicious Spock, I'm sure we will."

The three of them took a seat around the triangular table and a heavy, awkward silence quickly filled the room. They looked at each other, waiting for something, perhaps anything, to ease the tension.

Kirk sighed softly. "I know we came here to talk but I don't want to spoil our dinner with what I assume will be heavy conversation. Let's enjoy our food first."

Spock nodded. "I find your proposal acceptable."

Bones smirked and nodded as well. "I agree. Let's dig in."

The three began their dinner and ate in silence, conversing only in glances and small smiles.

Kirk savoured every second. He hoped it wouldn't be their first and last romantic dinner but he knew it was a very likely possibility. It was also a very likely possibility that this was not intended to be a romantic dinner at all but Kirk hoped it was all the same.

The last few bites were the slowest and Kirk noticed he was not the only one taking his time.

Bones swallowed his last bite and smiled slightly. "Thank you for dinner Spock, it was very good."

Spock nodded. "You're welcome."

Bones let out a heavy sigh and leaned back on hands. "I know I agreed to coming here for dinner so we could talk, but I think I'd feel more comfortable talking about what I need to talk about in my own space. Would you two mind?"

Kirk shook his head. "I'm fine with that."

"I have no objection," added Spock. "Let me clear the table and I will be ready to accompany you to your quarters."

After a couple minutes the three men headed out of Spock's quarters and headed down the hall towards Bones'.

They reached the door and Kirk watched it slide open. He moved to step inside but paused. He touched the door frame gently with his hand. When it came time to walk back through it again he hoped he wouldn't be heading out alone.

* * *

><p>Spock had never put much stock into hope. Either the situation could be altered or it couldn't. Once matters had left his hands all Spock knew he could do was calculate the likelihood of success. But once they left his quarters and headed to Dr. McCoy's Spock was not calculating the likelihood of Dr. McCoy talking about what had been on Spock's mind for months, he was simply hoping that he would.<p>

The three men walked in silence down the hall to Dr. McCoy's quarters. It was definitely peculiar as Spock was accustomed to the three of them engaging in simple banter, something he refused to admit he enjoyed. He hoped that after the events of tonight that the simple enjoyment of his friend's banter would not be forever lost to memory.

They entered the doctor's quarters and Jim and himself took a seat beside each other in two of the four chairs in Dr. McCoy's sitting area while the doctor grabbed three glasses, a bottle of whiskey, and a bottle of flavoured water. He set the glasses down on the table and poured himself and Jim a small amount of whiskey and filled Spock's glass with melon sweetened water.

While the sweet water did not have an affect on Spock's system like the alcohol had on his counterpart's, it was still a sinful delight. It had no nutritional value and its only purpose was to make water more pleasurable for his sense of taste. Though Spock continued to act as if he only drank it so that his friends would cease in their verbal pressuring for him to "loosen up" he had begun to enjoy the drink and their nights of socialization together in the ship's cafeteria.

McCoy sighed shakily as he sat down across from them. He took a large sip of his drink before fidgeting with his hands.

Spock's lips turned ever so slightly downwards as he observed the man in front of him. He hated to see the doctor distressed. It was the reason he often would engage him in conversation when he saw him like this. He knew his logical assessment of situations only infuriated the passionate man but his fiery temper meant he was not ready to give up, that he still had hope, and if he had hope so did Spock.

"I don't really know how to do this," Dr. McCoy admitted softly, his voice quivering slightly as it had the other night when he told both him and Jim that he needed to speak to them privately.

"Perhaps you could begin with telling us the general idea of the nature of this talk?" Spock offered, hoping to make whatever it was Dr. McCoy needed to speak about easier.

The doctor nodded slightly. "It's... well it's... I'm in love."

Spock's green blood picked up speed to match his now rapidly beating heart. He took a sip of his drink, hoping that none of his increased emotions could be seen on his face.

"Well that's great Bones!" replied Jim, his voice cheerful.

Spock glanced over to his captain and immediately recognized that he was lying. He knew that smile. It was reserved for dignataries he was not fond of and women he needed information out of. Jim was not pleased with this confession.

He took a slow deep breath and attempted to calm himself. He could not allow himself to jump to conclusions. Dr. McCoy's admission of love and Jim's silent disapproval of it did not necessarily mean what he hoped it did.

"Well, have you told the lucky lady yet?" Asked Jim, his voice still attempting to be pleased.

Dr. McCoy smirked. "No."

Spock's stomach took an uncomfortable lurch. He did not deny it was a woman.

He looked to Jim. He watched as Jim swallowed hard, his face going a little more solemn.

Spock turned back to the doctor. "Forgive me, Leonard, but I fail to understand why you felt it necessary to speak to us about this matter. Do you desire our approval of your romantic interest?" He asked, attempting to get more information out of the doctor, unwilling, perhaps naively, to give up hope yet.

Dr. McCoy let out a sad, small laugh. "You could say that Spock."

"It can't be that bad Bones," Jim reassured him. "We're your friends, we'll be by your side no matter what. You can tell us."

Spock locked his gaze on Dr. McCoy, his body absolutely motionless. He watched as the doctor sighed again, took a sip of his drink, and looked around the room before finally looking forward at the two of them.

"I'm not in love with a woman. I'm in love with, oh god damn it... I'm in love with two men."

It was at that moment, when the potential future of his desires was so painfully close to becoming reality, that Spock finally understood a human expression that had never quite made sense to him.

He hoped he wasn't dreaming.

* * *

><p>Dr. Leonard McCoy knew how close he was to losing everything. All he had to do was utter their names and it would be done. But a small, ignored, slice of his heart still hoped that their names was exactly what the two stone faced men in front of them wanted to hear.<p>

Jim blinked. He opened his mouth then closed it and blinked again. "I just want to make sure I heard that right. You said you were in love with two men, right?"

McCoy sighed and took a large gulp of his drink, savouring the burn as it ran down his throat. "That's what I said Jim," he confirmed, hoping desperately that it was what Jim wanted to hear.

"Have you told them?" asked Jim.

McCoy glanced up at him. He couldn't be sure and he didn't think he could trust his mind right now, but he thought he saw a glimmer of hope in Jim's eyes.

His eyes darted to Spock. He swore the man was leaning forward in his chair by the smallest of angles. But was he? Or was he just hoping he was?

"No," he answered, looking back to Jim.

"Why not?"

"Jim!" McCoy exclaimed. Wasn't the answer obvious? Did he really have to spell it out for him? "It's already doubtful that either of these men are gay nevermind interested in me and on top of that interested in being involved with more than one person! It's a fool's fantasy," he muttered, downing the last of his drink.

"While the situation is improbable, it is not impossible," said Spock.

McCoy looked up at him, his eyebrow cocked. No numbers? No percentage to the hundredth decimal of probability? Was Spock trying to give him hope? And if he was, why? Spock was like himself, not one to sugar-coat things, so why? Unless... No. It was just too much to hope for, to think that maybe Spock was hoping it wasn't impossible too.

Jim took a swig of his drink. "I think I should tell you something Bones, about why I haven't been sleeping for months."

McCoy's eyes quickly moved back to Jim.

"It's because I've felt the same as you. I-" he paused, looking around, before he set his jaw and looked right at McCoy. "I've been in love with two men for months."

McCoy's heart stopped. It couldn't be true. Why was Jim doing this to him? Why was he torturing him by getting his hopes up like this?

"But I can't do this any more. I'm in love with-"

"Stop!" McCoy exclaimed, standing up, glaring down at Jim with tears beginning to gather in his eyes. "I know where you're going with this but I beg you, don't. Don't do this, don't lie to me and make up bullshit stories like this. I can't take it. I know you don't feel the same way and I'm positive you don't either Spock," he said, looking to Spock. "I fell in love with you two. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I know I've ruined everything but I couldn't help it. The more time I spent around you two the more I knew I couldn't live without you, that I wanted more than just our friendship. I love you and I'm sorry." He turned his back to them, resting a hand on the back of his chair to steady himself as tears threatened to spill over.

He waited as silence filled the room, hoping, that maybe, just maybe, they felt the same, that Jim wasn't lying to him.

He heard a chair shift and a few steps coming towards him. The light weight of a hand settled on his shoulder.

"Please Jim, just go," he said softly, his voice ragged as he forced back the tears.

"I will only leave if you two are accompanying me," Spock replied.

McCoy froze. It couldn't be true. He couldn't hope that Spock of all men would feel the same.

He turned slowly and looked up into the eyes of Spock, searching, hoping.

"I fully realize the illogic of the situation but I will no longer deny the reality of it. I am in love with two men. My thoughts and emotions are continuously centred around James Kirk and Leonard McCoy. I hope my admission pleases you both."

Jim stood slowly and made his way over to them. He smiled slowly, hesitantly, but McCoy could see his eyes sparkle like they did months ago, with hope and happiness. "This is it then? No more secrets? I can-" he paused. "I can be with you both?" He asked softly, looking to the two men in front of him.

McCoy smiled. "Yes Jim, I think we can finally all be together," he said.

"Then I suggest we head to my room. I got the biggest bed," Jim replied, flashing them a toothy grin.

McCoy laughed, feeling his heart fill with a joy he had never experienced in all his years. "Lead the way Jim."

The three headed out of his room and to Jim's. With the two loves of his life at his side McCoy, for the first time in his life, had hope that he would finally be happy.


	6. Epilogue  Happy

_**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Star Trek, it belongs to a lot of people that I'm too lazy to list off right now._

_**Rated:** T_

_**A/N:** So I finally finished it! I wanted to do a little epilogue and while I tried to do the three sections again it felt very odd and forced. I scrapped it and tried this instead and I really liked how it turned out. It feels a lot more natural and a lot more genuine._

_If you're interested in more of my work I really hope you will check it out my large project over at fictionpress - my m/m soap opera! Just head to fictionpress dot com slash ~dianelennox. Or go to my profile here and check the links!_

* * *

><p>The sudden change in the morale of the crew was extreme and everyone knew the cause.<p>

Captain Kirk, Mr. Spock, and Dr. McCoy were happy.

The sudden change in their mood sprung the ship back to life. There was more laughter, more eagerness to explore, and a contagious optimism.

Although, why exactly the three men were once again happy was a topic of much discussion, debate, and quite honestly, good-natured gossip.

What was known was that they were seen together a great deal more. For example, when Dr. McCoy was not immediately needed in sickbay he was often on the bridge of the ship with the other two, often discussing amongst each other minor points of interest such as the recent supernova they witnessed. What they discussed was of minor interest to the members of the crew, what was of interest was the way they were always smiling, or in Mr. Spock's case, being more animated than usual.

They were also more happy when apart as well. The Captain was, like he had been a year ago, much too antsy to sit long in his chair and spent much of his time talking to his crew members, once again interested to hear what they had to say and eager to put their suggestions and ideas to good use. Mr. Spock was active once more in the science lab and, like he had a year ago, made time to tutor and aid the younger officers. Dr. McCoy was, most noticeably, not brooding anymore. He also was back researching and making room calls, something everyone around him appreciated.

There were other small things people began to notice. Most intriguingly, how they all came out of the same room in the morning, and not always the same room either. There was also a rumour that came from engineering about a turbo lift being stopped for more than just a couple minutes with the three men inside. Who all, as witnesses claim, came out a bit dishevelled.

Regardless of the state of their seemingly triangular relationship it was widely recognized as a good thing. What mattered to the crew at the end of the day was that the ship was happy and so were the three men that was her heart.


End file.
